


Find Me (With Your Love)

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hurt Peter Hale, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Mating Bond, Werewolf Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2020-07-07 23:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “Thank god you're okay,” Stiles breathes out, more so to himself, but he knows Derek hears it. Before Derek can say anything, Stiles keeps rambling, “Okay listen here Sourwolf, this had better be a booty call or I swear to god!”“We got attacked, and it’s, fuck, it's bad. He got stabbed, the sw—the sword was covered in wolfsbane, and h—”





	Find Me (With Your Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

When Stiles’ phone goes off at quarter-after-four in the morning, he is mildly annoyed and very, very scared. It takes him a total of three rings to register what is going on, and once he does he's out of bed, swiping the call to answer. He's already pulling out his bag, the old backpack he uses for magick-y things because he doesn't care if it's ruined. He keeps four or five unlit motive candles in there at all times, both his dried up sage and lavender, and usually his dagger—though he's never needed to use blood magic before (hopes he never does)

“Stiles,” Derek grunts out and some of the tension he didn't even know he was holding slide from his shoulders. 

“Thank god you're okay,” Stiles breathes out, more so to himself, but he knows Derek hears it. Before Derek can say anything, Stiles keeps rambling, “Okay listen here Sourwolf, this had better be a booty call or I swear to god!”

Derek softens at this, Stiles can feel it happen over their phone call. He can hear how he softly breathes out and Stiles knows what Derek's face must look like. But then he says, “Stiles,” and it's a whine and it's one of the scariest things Stiles has ever heard—it's weak and fragile and much more of a noise Stiles would make. “We got attacked, and it’s, fuck, it's bad. He got stabbed, the sw—the sword was covered in wolfsbane, and h—”

“What happened to Peter?” John interrupts, standing in Stiles’ doorway with his arms wrapped around himself. His eyes are wide and Stiles can feel the nervous, fearful energy rolling off him. 

Stiles spins around, the container of fennel freezes in midair, and he looks at his dad questioningly. Because what? The hiss Derek makes through the phone is confirmation enough, so he rushes, pulling out another three sacks of herbs before moving on to powders. There's granite, ash tree, also brick. As he zips up his bag, he eyes his dad carefully again. John is just standing there, fingers twitching at his side—something he hasn't seen since his mom died. 

“Peter?” It's phrased as a question, quiet and scared and makes a little piece of Stiles’ heartbreak when he hears it. 

“Derek where  _ are _ you?” Which is easier than answering his dad. He does walk over, giving the taller man a tight hug when he figures it out. 

“Stiles how does he kno—”

“Derek it doesn't matter! Just tell me where you are!”

“I, I don't know. It's hard to tell, just somewhere in the woods. I, don’t,  _ Stiles _ .” It's a plea, the way Derek says his name; it's a whimper and it's vulnerable and unguarded and Stiles isn’t sure what he's begging for, just that he'd give him anything. 

“Don’t worry Der. I'm coming. Hey dad, I got to go, ther—” 

“I'm coming too.” Stiles doesn't think refusing his dad is a great idea since he looks, well Stiles doesn't know. His eyes are wide, glossy, but he's also mad—livid, actually. “He'll need me there.”

Stiles wants to protest—obviously he wants to protest. He was a fully functioning (very powerful, might he add) witch, and there were some things even _ he  _ didn't always go to. This seemed like one of the occasions you didn't bring a human to, but he hears a howl through the phone. It's not Derek’s, he would know if it was. He can hear Derek shushing Peter, trying to calm him down. Even though there is no way he could have heard it from the phone, John's eyes snap up and his shoulders tense. 

“Get in the car, now.” Stiles doesn't argue, just runs down the stairs after his dad. 

“Derek, can you try to explain where you are?” Stiles’ voice is calm, his fingers still and his breathing even. He learned long ago that he  _ had _ to be calm when things like this happened. It sometimes surprised him how strongly his magic was linked to his emotions. Fear and anxiety would dampen in, and he needed to be strong. 

“I, fuck. Stiles, it's bad, I can’t smell anything—oth-other than the wound,” Derek’s breath is uneven,  _ very _ uneven and that scares Stiles. “They’re close. I don't know—I don't know what they are. Please find us.”

And okay, fuck, now what? Stiles knows a lot about magic, he's excelled amazingly and has surpassed everyone's expectations. He is strong, his spark is strong, but impulsively doing magic has always been hard. Magic was simple when you had a strict guideline of what to do, but just  _ making stuff happen  _ was something he’s always had trouble with. 

_ So, Stiles, what do we do know?  _ he whispered to himself, knowing Derek might hear but that John wouldn't. John is staring at Stiles actually, the car on, hand hovering just above the gear shift. When it clicks into place Stiles laughs. He laughs loud and full and with all his body. His dad just stares wider, fear gripping his face and can tell by the halt of Derek's breathing that he's giving the phone a death stare. 

Stiles really tries to stop,  _ really _ does, but all he can think is: his dad is mated to Derek's creepy uncle. 

“Derek, we'll find you, don't worry. Keep him awake and keep him conscious.” 

“Stiles, look, I need to say something.” It's Stiles turn for his breath to hitch, anxiety gripping his heart as Derek says, “I, shit fuck. Okay, I lo—”

“No,” Stiles breathes out, “tell me after I save your stupid asses.”

“Stiles!” He can feel the frustration in Derek's voice, and also the hurt. He considers that saying no probably wasn't the best decision. 

“Derek, you too, okay. Seriously. I'm going to  _ save you _ , so tell me after so I can say it back.”

It's slow coming, and Stiles knows that Derek has to calm his breathing, has to tell himself that it wasn't rejection. “But,” and Stiles knows Derek, knows what he's thinking, and just knowing that makes Stiles whimper. “Okay.”

Stiles breathes out a helpless sounding, “I'll be there soon,” and hangs up. The phone call had been over nine minutes, way longer than it should have been. He looks over to his Dad. The man is now openly crying, letting tears fall from his eyes in a way Stiles hasn't seen in a very long time. 

“Dad, focus, okay?” He waits for John to nod, knows he is capable of this when he says, “focus on Peter. Focus on, on—how much he means to you.” John goes to protest, but Stiles just cuts him off, “you heard him howl, and you shouldn't have. And you knew he was hurt, Dad, how?” 

“I felt it. I just knew.” John is shaking, his mind a jumbled mess because what the hell did all this mean. Did he love Peter? Yeah, he could have told you that after their second ‘date’. Did Peter love him? John was pretty sure that was a no. Like, maybe, but John didn't think Peter loved him.

“Good! Good, Dad, focus on that okay, focus on how you knew. Try to find him, call for him, okay,  _ seek _ him out!” Stiles is more excited now, carefully choosing what he says because he's unsure if he's even realized it yet. Their mates, he's sure. He'd always sort have known. “We’re going to find them. Just focus on him, how he makes you  _ feel _ , and I'll tell you where to drive okay.”

Stiles isn't sure if it'll work. Magic is all about intent, that he understands. But magic doesn’t always work out the way you plan. It’s tricky and sneaky but Stiles is much the same, and has always found his magic to be respectful to him, as long as he is respectful to it. He calls his spark, letting it warm his body. “Look, I need some serious help here,” he says more to himself than anything. He is strong. Stiles’ spark is even brighter than his mother’s had been, but that doesn’t make magic easy. “Find them.”

The feeling that shifts through Stiles body is relief, relief that makes him laugh again. A map forms in his mind, and Stiles taps into his dad’s spirit to feed the map his love of Peter, filtering in his own feelings for Derek to find them even quicker. It barely makes sense, but he pushes his emotions at the magic he is wielding and believes.

They are close. He knows, somehow, that they have ten minutes of driving time followed by a fifteen-minute run through the woods. His dad makes it there in four. Stiles calls upon his spark again, bringing light with him into the forest, asking for a path to be cleared. The forest bends to his will, just as upset as he is about the two Hale’s hurt and hiding in their woods. 

Before Stiles can see them, he can feel them. John knows where they are and picks up his pace, nearly running to get closer and closer to them. The pack bond is weak, barely holding on through the pain Peter is in, but Stiles knows they’re here. He breaks into a jog behind his dad, his magic illuminating their path.

Derek is on his feet before they turn the corner into a little clearing nestled between and broken trees. Before Stiles even has to process that he’s finally found them, Derek's hand are brushing against Stiles’ cheek. His hand is warm, and Stiles holds out his own on Derek's chest to feel the beating of his heart. He smiles, he can’t not, but the moment is broken by the broken sob his dad lets out.

It is a horrible, heartbreaking noise that tears into Stiles’ chest. He pushes past Derek and falls to his knees where Peter is lying slumped against a tree, a sword (a large fucking  _ sword _ ) sticking straight through his abdomen. He looks back but his dad is frozen to his spot, staring at Peter with devastating clearly written out over his face. 

Stiles makes a noise, something painful, and mutters out a weak, “Well fuck,” as he pulls his bag off his shoulder. 

With a deep breath, he gets to work. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!   
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
